


The Boy Who Cried Bad Wolf

by Ellsweetella



Category: Doctor Who, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Dark Avengers - Freeform, Dark Black Widow, Dark Thor, Torture, Tortured Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellsweetella/pseuds/Ellsweetella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. All characters are human. Rose, known as Bad Wolf, is captured by a group of twisted, sick-minded people who seek entertainment through torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Cried Bad Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta-d and any mistakes are my own. Please tell me what you think about it! It's my first torture story.

**The Boy Who Cried Bad Wolf**

“Bad Wolf,” the words rolled off his tongue. It sounded childish, like the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood.

She was a new prey they were feasting on.

Young, pretty, filled with spirit. They wondered how long would it take to break her, to see her beg, to have all her dignity, self-esteem and honour stripped away, to extinguish the light in her eyes, to tear her soul apart, leaving only an empty shell.

They bet that she could only last three days. No one had last longer than that. By the end of the third day, all their past toys had become broken dolls, trash.

They were boring.

They did not put up a fight.

They just caved in.  

But this time, it was different. Loki could feel it. He could feel the excitement crackling in the air, running under his skin. The girl was different.

He bet that she could last a week, maybe more.

Bad Wolf.

He had heard her name many times before, an echo throughout the alleys.

Bad Wolf, companion of the Doctor.

Bad Wolf, defender of Earth.

He had heard whispers about their deeds, the Doctor and her, running about saving people.

A self-righteous duo. How painfully annoying.

He had yearned to expose her, to tear down every last defence that she held, to twist her mind and corrupt it, killing every last inch of hope in her. He yearned to see her beg, to see her broken and begging to be killed.

What would she be when they were done with her?

Bad Wolf was held up in the air, her wrist and ankles chained in a fashion that she was pulled into a ‘X’ formation. Her clothes were stripped away from her, leaving her in her soiled undergarments.

It was humiliating.

The cold dry air crept along, crawling under her skin and twisting her flesh. Her lips, her red full lips, were dry, cut and swollen; the redness now came from the dried blood.

Loki watched her limp body, her wet hair plastered to her bruised face.

Ah. It was time.

Her eyes slowly opened as she heard the footsteps of her torturer.

Who was it this time?

Thor? Ironman? Hulk? Captain America? Hawkeye? Black Widow?

She did not care anymore. It was the same anyway. She was going to be tortured for their entertainment.

“Did you have a good night’s rest?” The question was taunting, mocking her pain.

“Yes, I did. Thank you for your help in aiding my sleep,” she replied, tilting her head up to meet her visitor.

She saw his eyes flash with amusement.

She hated him.

Loki of Asgard.

She hated the way he looked at her, as if she was a toy, a plaything. Her existence was nothing more than a form of entertainment.

Well, if he wanted to be entertained, so be it. She wouldn’t give it to him. She wouldn’t give in to them, these sick bastards. 

Loki hid behind the glass wall. He stood there, his posture perfect. His eyes zoomed onto her like a hawk and she has never felt so naked in her whole life.

It wasn’t the fact that she was wearing only her bra and knickers. She had been naked in front of countless men, prying away their secrets.

His gaze wasn’t primitive, wasn’t lustful. It was raw, filled with sick interest. He watched her like a snake stalking its prey. He looked straight into her soul, searching for secrets to exploit.

His gaze made her shiver.

His lips curved and his eyes danced.

It was time to play.

He snapped his fingers and the show starts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She screamed, her body thrashing wildly against the restrains that held her.

Waves of pain crashed onto her, one after another, each wave growing in intensity. Every cell of her body was screaming, twisting in pain, begging for release. Her eyes watered, tears streaming down her eyes. She was constantly brought to the brink of death but never crossing the line. It was a dance with death. A dance she was forced into.

She was blinded by pain, flashes of white darted across her mind. She was so tired. So… tired…

The waves stopped, leaving the pain throbbing beneath her skin. Her body fell limp, too spent to move.

She felt a pair of strong hands gripping her cheek, the fingers rough and calloused.

“Look at me,” the voice commanded, rough and thick.

She didn't respond.

“Look at me. Or I will continue. Where do you want it to be this time? Hmm?”

She mustered all her strength that she still possessed and peeled her eyes open.

“What is your name?” the man with sun-kissed hair asked. Thor.

“Bad Wolf,” she choked out.

She should have guessed it was Thor. Who else would use electricity?

“Wrong answer.”

Her body contracted.

“What’s your name?”

“Bad Wolf.”

He slid the rod over her body, searching for a vulnerable spot.

Ah. There it is.

He ripped her knickers off, exposing the swirl of dark hair covering her privates.

His fingers found her hole and he pushed the tip of the rod against it.

“What is your name?”

She knew that he was using it as an excuse. They didn’t need her name. They just wanted to play. They were playing a game of stamina, a game of will. It was a little game to them and she would play. She would play their stupid game and win.

Her lips curved, “Are you that afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”

He pushed the rod in further, his eyes filled with anger and excitement.

“Tell me your name.”

“Bad Wolf.”

He shoved the rod inside of her.

“Tell. Me. Your. Name.”

“Bad. Wolf.”

Electricity cackled and her body was sent into another bout of spasms. She screamed, her eyes rolling back into her head. Her body was burning. She felt like her body was being ripped apart. She wanted to run, to tear the rod away but her muscles failed to listen. Her screams filled the room, ricocheting off the white walls.

It stopped.

Her heart continued speeding.

She hung there, like a lifeless doll.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The pelting of ice cubes against her sensitive skin woke her up.

She could barely see through her swollen eyes, but she could make out the figure of a curvy redhead.

Black Widow.

She was sitting on a wooden chair, looking at her with a smile.

“Rose Marion Tyler, you have awaken,” Black Widow smiled, crossing her legs.

They had known her name all along.

“Doc…tor,” she whispered, her eyes on Rose, searching for a reaction.

Rose looked at her dead in the eye, concealing any drop of emotions.

“He is dead. You outlast him,” she said. She took out her lipstick and carefully applied it on. “He gave up rather quickly, such a disappointment. I thought that he would last longer, seeing how you spoke of him.”

“ ‘I believe in the Doctor!’ ” She mocked.

Rose seethed.

She knew what they were doing, trying to mess with her head. It wouldn’t work. Not on her.

Unlike anyone else, she still held on hope. She clutched at hope and rage. They were keeping her afloat, keeping her grounded. These emotions kept her alive.

“Do you know what his last words were?” Black Widow said with a small smile. “They were ‘Rose Tyler I-’…”

Rose remained silent. She would not lose. Not now.

It had been four days, or, that was what she had thought. Time was rather difficult to keep track here.

“Too bad he couldn’t finish the sentence,” she sighed dramatically. “Well, I have saved you a souvenir.”

Black Widow took something from her pocket and kept it in her fist. She sashayed towards Rose and slowly uncurled her fingers, revealing an eyeball.

“Don’t you think it is rather familiar? Of course you do. You wouldn’t forget the gaze of your lover,” the redhead laughed, playing with the eye.

“Look at it, such a perfect shade of brown, a cross between chocolate and coffee.”

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

Her sharp nails scratched Rose’s face as she forced her head down to look at the eye.

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

The Doctor cannot be dead. He mustn’t be dead.

“What is Rose Tyler without her precious Doctor?” she smiled, dragging her nails down her cheek, running them across the open wounds.

"To think that you actually loved him. You don't even know his name."

She smiled and patted Rose, before turning to leave.

Rose glared at her, tears stinging her eyes.

The Doctor wasn’t dead.

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She lost track of the number of times she had been tortured.

She was a mess, she was sure. Her eyelids were heavy and her hair was thin and dry. She was fully naked now, stripped of everything. They had prodded her, cut her, electrocuted her, strangled her, whipped her… the list went on and on.

They had decided to let her down from her restrains that tied her up. Instead, they had now fastened a leash on her neck and made her crawl on all fours, licking their boots and following their call. 

If they told her to lick their feet, she had to.

If they told her to eat their shit, she had to.

If they told her to drink her urine, she had to.

If they told her to fuck them, she had to.

It wasn’t a choice. They would force it on her anyway. They would force the actions on her. They were the puppet masters and she was their puppet.

The humiliation wasn't the worst.

They had made her watch them torture their other prisoners. They had made her watch them beg for release, to be killed.

And they had whispered the Doctor’s name in her ears. They had whispered names in her ears as she was forced to watch. Names that she held dear in her heart, names that made her heart go cold.

She told herself that they were playing games. The Doctor was still alive and so were the rest. They were still out there, saving the world.

Yet, the screams haunted her dreams. The prisoners’ faces would morph into the people she loved. Their tortured cries would be from her loved ones’ mouths. Their open, infected wounds would be on her friends’ bodies. Their blood would be pouring from her family.

Their cold glazed eyes would be her Doctor’s eyes.

She wanted to give up. She needed to give up. She couldn’t find the courage or energy to fight back any longer.

The Bad Wolf was dying.

She was no longer the brave, no longer the spy, and no longer the defender of Earth.

She was just Rose Tyler, scared, lost and exhausted.

But she would see the ice blue eyes of Loki through the glass and she was more determined to see him fall.

She hated the arrogant smirk on his face, the way he looked at her.

He disgusted her.

How could a man find pleasure in torturing a person?

The hatred she felt so strongly for the dark haired man kept her sane.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Loki watched intently as they whipped her.

She would hiss in pain, as her flesh was torn open.

Her body was covered with striking red marks and open wounds.

There marks across her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs, her buttocks…

They had even whipped her nether regions.

Her once flawless fair skin was covered with raw red marks. Purple and red bruises stood out from her skin, a stark contrast to her pale, blood-drained face. Her eye lids were swollen, her lips cracked and dry. The redness of her lips came from the coating of dried blood. Her hair, once perfectly bleached and styled was now a tangled mess, sticking onto her body.

Striking red finger marks curved around her neck.

Beautiful.

Her screams were music to Loki’s ears.

He was right. She was a fighter. No one else had lasted a week. No one except her.

They said that she was already broken, for she had stopped responding, her eyes glazed and dead.

He knew better.

After all she was Rose Marion Tyler, the Bad Wolf.

The name suited her. Bad Wolf. He now understood why she had chosen that name.

Inside her, there was a girl, wild and primitive, strong and stubborn.

He wondered when she would appear.

She lifted up her head, staring straight into his eyes.

His lips curved.

Look at that flicker of anger, that flicker of hope.

She was still very much alive indeed.

He bit his tongue, allowing a dribble of blood down his chin.

Her eyes flashed.  

“Bad Wolf,” the words rolled off his tongue.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
